


Expecto Patronum

by Jupiter_Ash



Series: A Kind of Magic [9]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:54:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26678548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jupiter_Ash/pseuds/Jupiter_Ash
Summary: Set during their 6th year.Crowley had known they were going to have to study Dementors sometime, and with it the Patronus Charm, didn’t mean he was happy about it though.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: A Kind of Magic [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1467316
Comments: 16
Kudos: 81





	Expecto Patronum

He had known they were going to have to study Dementors sometime, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. It wasn’t the Dementors per say that he had the problem with, although it was hard to like a ten-foot-tall creature that fed on human happiness and could suck the soul from a person with a kiss, but more of what came with them as a result. 

Everyone wanted to know what their Patronus would be, even though being able to conjure a fully formed Patronus was rare even for adult wizards. 

They had the great Harry Potter to blame for that. 

Everyone knew the story of how Potter had been able to form a fully corporeal Patronus at the age of thirteen, and how by the Battle of Hogwarts a few years later, a number of his friends had managed it as well. 

Everyone knew that Potter’s Patronus was a stag, just like his father’s had been, and so everyone wanted to know what their Patronus would be in turn, even if so few ever managed anything more than a few silver wisps.

Everyone except Crowley. 

Crowley had no desire to find out what his Patronus would be, because he had no desire to confirm what everyone already thought they knew about him.

Aziraphale, on the other hand, had no such reservations.

“Oh I do wonder what mine will be,” he said, eyes bright as he looked up from the five books he had open in front of him. “Maybe a cat, or a dog, or a, a badger even. Ooooh, maybe a rabbit, or a hare.”

He seemed so enthused by the idea, that Crowley hesitate before speaking. But he knew that disappointment was inevitable if he didn’t at least point out the obvious beforehand.

“You do remember that we’re unlikely to be able to produce anything that corporeal,” he said gently. 

“I know,” Aziraphale said, his eyes dropping. “But we’ve got a good shot at it. I’ve been doing extra reading you see. Look here, this one says it’s all in the wrist movement. Since drawing circles with your wand increases the power of the spell, then the better the circle, the stronger the spell. And that’s all in your wrist. See.”

Crowley allowed himself to be distracted by Aziraphale and his research. 

Anything to avoid answering the question of what he thought his own Patronus would look like.

*

While Aziraphale wasn’t the only person in their class to produce the silver wisps of a non-corporeal Patronus, he was the first to produce the first corporeal version. Yes, it was faint, and flickered wildly, and wasn’t fully detailed, but it was entirely recognisable for what it was.

“Did you see that? Did you see that?” he cried as the spell broke and the image vanished. “Oh Crowley, did you see that?”

Of course Crowley had seen it. The entire class had seen it. Twenty points had been awarded to Hufflepuff in recognition of the first pupil in three years to actually be able to do it during the lesson. 

Aziraphale almost vibrated himself out of his seat with sheer delight.

“Oh Crowley, now you have to do it,” Aziraphale said.

Crowley didn’t bother pointing out that the Patronus was a charm and Aziraphale had a natural affinity to charms. From experience he knew there were some situations when arguing with his friend was virtually pointless. Aziraphale could be annoyingly stubborn like that. When he stuck his heels in about something, they stayed stuck in. Crowley supposed that was how they were still friends after all this time, even in the face of all the opposition. Somehow, repeatedly being told to not be friends with the Slytherin reject with the cursed eyes had only made Aziraphale more determined to do just that. So in a way Crowley was thankful for that side of his friend, even if at other times it could be plain infuriating.

He managed a few wisps by the end of the lesson, and that was good enough for him.

It wasn’t good enough for Aziraphale though.

“You’re not doing the circles properly,” Aziraphale said, grabbing his hand to try and guide him through the motions. “See, it’s all in the wrist.”

It was a too much.

Hissing, Crowley yanked his hand back and twisted away, ignoring the hurt look on his friend’s face as he did so. Lucky for him it was the end of the lesson so all he had to do was quickly scribble down the homework before he could bolt from the room.

*

He went to the greenhouses. They were his go to space when he needed to be alone. It was soothing to be amongst all the greenery. 

They _had_ planned to go to the library, him to work on his Divination homework, Aziraphale, on his Ancient Runes. He’d have to do that later now, or make something up. At least he could claim he was doing Herbology instead. 

He could also claim that he wasn’t hiding.

He totally _was_ hiding though.

“I’m sorry.”

And, of course, Aziraphale _had_ come to find him, although looking at the time it was now after dinner, so it wasn’t that surprising that Aziraphale had appeared now. He always worried if Crowley didn’t turn up for meals. And it wasn’t as if he had made an effort with his hiding. They had both known exactly where he would be.

An apology wasn’t what he had been expecting. But then, even after all this time, Aziraphale still had the ability to surprise him because Crowley was programmed to deal with Slytherins and Slytherins never apologised. Apologies were an admission of guilt and Slytherins never admitted any guilt at all. Ever.

From the way his robes were crumpled up his arms and the way he was wringing his hands, Aziraphale was obviously very sorry for something, although quite what Crowley wasn’t too sure. After all, he was the one who had done the snapping and storming off. All Aziraphale had tried to do was help.

“I obviously did or said something that upset you,” Aziraphale continued, so sincerely it was almost painful. “So I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”

“Nothing to forgive,” he muttered, but still not looking at his friend. “Wasn’t you.”

“But something upset you,” Aziraphale said. 

Crowley didn’t say anything. 

“Is this… is this because I managed to form a Patronus?” Aziraphale said after a moment. “I’m sorry if I made you feel inferior. I didn’t mean to. I honestly think you can too. And if you can, then we can figure out how to send messages to each other, and-”

“S’not about your Patronus,” Crowley said, because he honestly didn’t want Aziraphale to think he was jealous of that. He was genuinely pleased his friend had managed to form one because that was what Aziraphale had wanted to do.

“Oh. Good,” Aziraphale said, breathing out. “Because I was hoping we could practice together, and like I was saying, it would be a great way to send messages, and-” He trailed off as Crowley turned away. “Crowley? What’s wrong? Are you worried that you won’t be able to do it? I know it’s supposed to be advanced magic, and few people master it, but we already know you’re powerful, so if I can do it, you should be able to do it, you just need a bit more practice, and-”

“What if I don’t want to be able to do it,” Crowley said, then slammed his mouth shut before he could say anything else.

He could feel Aziraphale’s confused stare. He knew what was coming next, because it was quite obvious what was going to come next, wasn’t it? Because why would anyone not want to be able to master such a spell?

But the question never came.

What came was a quiet, “Oh,” which was somehow even worse. Then another, softer, “Oh.”

Because while Aziraphale might have been rather obtuse at times, intellectually he was very bright. And he had finally got it. 

“It might not be a… a snake,” he heard Aziraphale say after another pause. 

The funny thing was, Crowley could almost believe Aziraphale actually thought that. 

It might not be a snake.

As if!

“Of course it’s going to be a ssssnake,” Crowley said, his slurring hiss becoming clearer the angrier he got. “That’s what I am, aren’t I? A sssnake. A sssserpent. A Sssslytherin disguised as a Hufflepuff.” He ripped off his sunglasses. “Look at me! It’s supposed to reveal my inner self. Look at me and tell me it’s not going to be a snake.”

Aziraphale looked at him. He bit his lips and he wrung his hands, but he looked Crowley steadily in the eyes. And then he dared to speak.

“Would it be so bad, if it was a snake?” he said. “I mean, not that it’s necessarily going to be,” he added quickly, “but would it be so bad? Lots of people have a snake for a patronus.”

“Lotsssss of Slytherinsssss do, you mean,” Crowley threw back. “And if I do, then what doessss that mean? It jussssst provessss it, doessssn’t it? Jussssst provessss what they’ve alwaysssss ssssaid. That I’m not really a-a Hufflepuff. I’m just a Sssslytherin in disssguisse.”

“No!” Aziraphale said sharply. “You’re Anthony Crowley! That’s who you are! You’re Anthony J. Crowley. And you’re a Hufflepuff. A Hufflepuff, not a Slytherin. And … and you’re my friend. I don’t care if your Patronus is a snake, or a lion, or a, a …” he waved his arms distractedly, “a piebald mouse. You will still be Anthony Crowley, a Hufflepuff, and my best friend.”

There was something almost adorable when it came to Aziraphale’s type of righteous anger. It was one of the few times he was utterly sure of himself, no backtracking or second guessing, and it was glorious to see, even when it was being directed completely at you. 

_You will still be Anthony Crowley, a Hufflepuff, and my best friend._

Oh how Crowley wanted to believe that. 

“You swear that?” he said instead. “You swear, that whatever my patronus is, or if I never manage to make a proper one, that it won’t change anything. That you’ll still be my…” He couldn’t say the words.

But Aziraphale could.

“Best friend,” he said. “And I promise. Whatever happens, Anthony Crowley, you’ll always be my best friend.”

Always was a long time, but Crowley wasn’t going to point that out, not if it meant tying the best person he had ever know to him forever.

“Pinky swear,” he said instead.

Aziraphale smiled as he held out his little finger. “Pinky swear.”

*

By the end of the next lesson, nearly everyone in the class had managed something. 

Crowley hadn’t managed anything more than silver smoke – impressive silver smoke to be fair, but still just smoke. 

Aziraphale had gone for encouraging but not critical, until he had gotten the hint that maybe there were others in the class who would be more welcoming of his help. He had taken it gracefully though, and Crowley was pleased that there were others receptive to Aziraphale’s brand of helpfulness. 

By the end of the lesson, they all cheered when the faint, wavering form of a classmate’s cat could be seen, and Aziraphale beamed as his help had paid off. 

Their next lesson was to, however, be the last lesson on the topic. So it was now or never, so to speak. Crowley would have happily accepted never but he knew that, if only for the sake of his friendship, he should at least try. So he practiced.

He practiced the hand movement. He practiced the wrist movement that Aziraphale was always going on about. He practiced the words – ex-PEK-toh pa-TRO-num. He practiced drawing on his happiest memories, although in truth those weren’t exactly plentiful. 

He practiced enough that Aziraphale could never accuse him of not trying. 

He practiced even though part of him still feared what would happen. 

And he tried. In that last lesson, he tried. He put it all together, and he tried.

Because he was Anthony Crowley and he wasn’t going to be beaten by some stupid spell, his stupid family, and some stupid rumours.

He scrunched his eyes closed and he worked through the spell, over and over and over again; words, wrist, happy memories.

He was Anthony Crowley, he was a Hufflepuff, and Aziraphale was his best friend. 

He was Anthony Crowley, he was a Hufflepuff, and Aziraphale was his best friend.

He was Anthony Crowley, he was a Hufflepuff, and-

There was a gasp and then new noises, and then Aziraphale, breathless, beside him, telling him to look, to open his eyes and _look_.

He slowly opened his eyes, and there, flowing from the tip of his wand, it was.

He was Anthony Crowley, he was a Hufflepuff, and his patronus was _not_ a snake.

It was not a snake!

It was faint and a bit fuzzy around the edges, true, but it wasn’t a snake.

He started to laugh as broad wings spread from the body and then it was moving.

It wasn’t a snake.

He was Anthony Crowley, he was a Hufflepuff, and his patronus was flying.

He heard an answering laugh, and then his patronus was joined by his best friend’s and for a moment the two birds flew together; Aziraphale’s dove and his crow.

**Author's Note:**

> Now, I wonder why Crowley's ended up being a bird... just like Aziraphale's. ;)


End file.
